


What We Do In The Shadows

by pixieferry



Series: Prince Hamid [6]
Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 03:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21172331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieferry/pseuds/pixieferry
Summary: A request from reader for Prince Hamid to bring Liana for an Ottoman shadow puppet show. The catch - make the smooth AF prince flustered and bashful.





	What We Do In The Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by a reader on tumblr, she wanted a blushing Hamid at the shadow puppet show. So here we go.  
It takes place after my Tale of Tales series, which was set in Constantinople. As this was written before DnD3 came out, it diverges from canon.

AS YOU WISH [@fairydustandsarcasm](https://tmblr.co/mqP9GZ7rVl_KBf_bCDK3G4w)!

**Rating:** We’re back to FLUFF YAAASSS!

**Thanks to the betas**: [@lizzybeth1986](https://tmblr.co/m359pljaIZm2APpoc1VtkMQ), [@](https://tmblr.co/m3LLjyVCPU_tgomd24O3yOQ)frugalchoicer 

**Summary:** *Throws plot, historical accuracy and logic to the fire* WE WANT BLUSHING HAMID.

“It’s very kind of the Sultan to arrange this shadow puppet show as part of our wedding festivities.”

“I actually requested it,” Prince Hamid said as he and Liana made their way towards the courtyard in Topkapi Palace, her arm looped in his. “I didn’t forget that afternoon at the Opera.”

“I should hope not, it was a highlight in London for me.” His smile widened at Liana’s confession. She continued with a little wistful note that struck his heart strings, “I wish it was you I sat with during the actual show.”

He stopped in his tracks and raised her hand to his lips. “As do I.” He then lowered it, pressing it to his heart, heavy with guilt and anger. “Especially after I found out what you had to endure that night. If Miss Parsons’ hadn’t been there-”

“You are not at fault and it’s all behind us now. Let’s enjoy the present,” she clasped her hand, warm but firm, on his. “Make it up to me tonight, with this show.” Her caramel eyes sweet but the curve of her lips sly and tempting.

“Tonight and to many more in future,” he vowed as they continued making their way.

He could scarcely keep his eyes off of Liana even in the courtyard, thick with music and the scent of incense and roses. A shimmering sea of finery in multicolored hues but in her silver dress she glowed ethereal - brighter than the glittering lanterns illuminating the castle grounds, than _al-Qamar_ and the stars watching in their jealous sky.

But her curious eyes were drawn to the center of the courtyard, to a makeshift theater with five men behind a white screen.

“That’s the puppeteer, he alone voices and controls the puppets,“ Hamid said. "That’s his two apprentices, their main task is to hand the puppets in the correct order, and set the theatre. They are accompanied with a singer and a tambourine player. And they,” he gestured to a small group of dancing musicians, “are the ensemble that plays before the show and during the interludes.”

“The puppets are flat,” she noted, eyeing the colorful figures with fascination.

“Yes, they are made of hide, like cow or camel. Shadow puppets actually originated from Asia which in my personal opinion, are more intricate. I have a few in my possession, I’d be delighted to show you another day if it pleases you.”

“It would. But pray tell me more about the Turkish ones.”

“There are two main characters in the play, Karagöz, the one in red, and Hacivat, green clad. They represent the everyday man and the nobleman, respectively. Most of the laughs and crude humour comes from Karagöz. He speaks in _Kaba Türkçe_, whereas Hacivat’s flowery, poetic -”

_“Kaba?”_

“It means rough or vulgar Turkish, because it is the language of the less educated lower class and rural people,” Hamid said, lowering his voice as he waved to the guests. “The elite and the government speaks a different form of Turkish, which borrows heavily from Arabic and Persian.”

"How do your people understand each other?”

“Some make do with translators.”

“And you?”

"I speak all forms of Turkish. Vulgar and otherwise,” he said with an exaggerated wink that makes her laugh. “Before the play starts, I should warn you, some people find it to be quite shocking. I hope you won’t be offended.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Besides,” a cock-sure quirk on her lips, “I’m becoming quite adapt to vulgarities, thanks to my husband’s eloquent tongue.”

Hamid’s laughter was cut short when Liana curtsied to a figure behind him. He turned, his jaw slackened ever so slightly as he came face to face with his mother. He made haste to recover; he kissed Čehrazad’s right hand and then lifted it to his forehead as a sign of respect. “Good evening, _Anne_. I thought you weren’t joining us given the late hour.”

“Ah, it is late but I had a change of heart,” Čehrazad said, looking fondly at the two of them. “I do enjoy the shadow puppets.”

“Yes, of course,” he answered smoothly though his smile tightened. He gestured to the seats. “Shall we?”

“Liana, is Deniz not going to translate for you tonight?” Čehrazad asked once seated. She sat on Hamid’s right, while Liana was on his left.

“Hamid insisted he would prefer to do so himself, _Anne_,” she replied, too distracted by the ensemble’s lively performance to notice the silent exchange between her husband and mother-in-law.

Čehrazad arched a brow, her blue eyes pierced through his bland smile, into his very soul. The temperature rose; beads of sweat pricked through his skin as he fought to not wilt in the suddenly stifling air. All his years, life experiences and confidence evaporated with just one look from his mother.

“Oh, he did, did he?“ Her little laugh like a thorn in his flesh. "How kind.”

Mercifully they were interrupted by a bell chime, signalling the performance was about to begin. They turned to the the screen as the decoration displayed vanished. The whistle of a wooden reed pierced the air and the play began.

“How do you find it so far?” Hamid asked. They were done mingling during the interval and were heading back to their seats.

“It’s beautiful.”

“But?” He prodded.

“But I am disappointed,” Liana admitted when it was clear he wouldn’t drop the subject. “I thought you said it was crude? Other than the female puppet with her breasts on display, the dialogue was quite tame.”

Hamid laughed sheepishly as rubbed the nape of his neck. He lowered his head and mumbled, “I may have skipped over the risque dialogues.”

_“Why?”_

He kept his head down. “It was, _ah_, inappropriate.”

_“Inappropriate?”_ Liana echoed incredulously. “Surely it’s not more _inappropriate _than the things you said to me last night,” her cheeks turned rosy, heat pooling inside her at the memory as she lowered her voice. “Or what we did at the fountain-”

Her sentence was silenced with his finger on her lips and the look of warning on his face. “That’s different.” His eyes softened, as did his touch; the stroke of his finger on the delicate skin of her mouth caused her heart to race and her lips to tremble.

Liana groaned inwardly, cursing herself for lack of self-restraint, him over his effect on her. She was surprised when he abruptly pulled away, shaking his hand as though it burned. He sat down, head buried in his hands as he muttered something foreign under his breath - _putain_, whatever that meant.

_He’s blushing_, she realized with a shock, observing the flush on the back of his neck. Her Prince, the renowned flirt, who took joy and every opportunity to make her cheeks red. What was going on? How rude could shadow puppets be?

“How is it different?” She nudged her knee against his quietly as she took the seat next to him. Hamid jumped up, eyes flicked on her as though she was an offensive sight. She winced as he cringed.

"Is it my dress? Should I have worn Ottoman clothes instead?” Liana dipped her head, chewing her bottom lip as she nervously fussed over her dress. Perhaps she ought to have worn a shawl for modesty, as the daring neckline and the sparkling beaded trimming drew eyes to graze on her bosom.

Hamid sat down. “You have done nothing wrong. And you,“ his hand tilted her chin up tenderly, finally meeting her with a gaze that filled her with heat yet again, “look utterly divine tonight. It’s me. My mother was sitting next to me and-” he stopped and crossed his arms, pink cheeks puffing as he exhaled and focused on anywhere but her.

Oh. _Oh_. She hid a grin behind her fan. “This must be agony for you. To have to be on your best behavior.”

His head snapped back at her with narrowed eyes though his lips curved into a smile. “You mock my pain?"

"Of course not, your highness," she replied, the very portrait of innocence. “You’re being silly, Hamid. You’re whispering, your mother can’t hear us. Also, she’s watching the show, not you. Besides, it’s dark, I’m sure there are _certain_ acts we can get away with. And,” frustration hissed out, “we are _twice_ married to each other!”

He inhaled a breath and nodded. “Right. You’re right. I apologise and I’ll do better with the second show.”

“You had better or…” Liana stopped and rose up from her seat, all milk and honey again, as Čehrazad returned. She curtsied respectfully. “_Anne_.”

“Liana, dear, I hope you are able to follow the show. Is Hamid attending to your needs?”

“Oh, yes, Hamid never fails to satisfy.” Her public facade modest, her thoughts impure as a squeak escaped his lips.

“What was that, Hamid?” Čehrazad asked.

“A tickle in my throat,” he replied, adding a cough for effect.

The music began. Karagöz and Hacivat entered the stage. Hamid shifted in his seat, leaning towards his left, to Liana, to fulfill his commitment. She was now aware of his hesitation - how did she miss it earlier? He had translated for her before, smooth and effortlessly, unlike tonight.

Despite his words not to censor, he was doing it again.

She fumed as she fanned herself, the flicking of her wrists fueled by her irritation. The silver spangles of her powder blue fan captured the dim light and glittered in the shadows. From there sparked a twisted thought.

Why not have fun with this situation?

“Hamid?”

He leaned back, a questioning expression writ on his face as she turned to face him. Her fan closed, and she twirled it so the handle touched her lips.

_Kiss me._

"I knew it!” He bit the grin spreading on his face and shook his head. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I can’t help it.” Liana shrugged, a coquettish smile on her lips. “You’re so skittish tonight, my prince. It’s adorable.”

She blew him a kiss; he clutched his heart, feigning to swoon with a roll of his eyes. Their shoulders danced in quiet laughter and, for a moment, the night seemed brighter. She faced the screen again as he continued translating albeit still a chaste version of the play for her. Truthfully, Liana could no longer focus on the red and green shadows dancing in front of her, or the words whispered into her ear. No, it was his rare, sweet flustered smile that consumed her thoughts. The knowledge that _she _had the power to make _him _blush.

The role reversal caused a rush of wicked excitement to course inside her.

She kept her head still, facing the screen, her hand now on the fan handle. “Hamid.”

He paused and leaned back again, eyes on her. She placed the fan on her lips and drew it lower, to the curve of her throat. His breath hitched as the fan trailed lower still, caressing her collarbone, running down the slope of her decolletage.

All of his favorite spots.

The fan flicked open and fluttered against her heart.

_I love you._

The hand on his knee moved as if to pounce and then quickly dropped with a tightened grip. Hamid cleared his throat and leaned in to her, so close Liana could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he murmured in her ear, “but we both know there are less suggestive ways to convey it.”

“Yes,” she turned her head slowly, giving him time to lean back. Their lips were now a hairsbreadth apart. “But I thought you would enjoy this more.”

Hamid didn’t answer, not with words, but with the hungry glint in his eyes and a wolfish grin on his lips. “And you call _me_ a tease.”

The fan on her chest snapped shut. She lowered her gaze, though her smile was anything but demure. “Hamid.”

She placed the fan on her lap, his jaw dropped as she spread it wide open. “You like it when I tease.”

“I have never, in all my life, envied _a fan_,” he growled playfully. He turned back to the screen, fingers pressed at his temple as he muttered, “This evening is not going as I envisioned.”

“How did you envision it?”

Hamid shook his head. There was a glimmer of mischief as he pressed a finger on his lips. “We will save that for another day. A viewing of _The Magic Flute_ perhaps.”

“Would you like me to stop?”

Hamid turned and locked eyes with her. The air shifted; it crackled and slithered on her skin, wrapping her in a hypnotic vice-like embrace. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his voice, and his gaze, to her idle fan.

“I will withstand any torture if it means I die in your lap.”

Her breath hissed out as his careful fingers picked up the fan between her thighs. It was only an instant, but the warmth of his hand spread like wildfire. The invisible coil tightened - her legs squeezed shut, as though to entrap the ghost of his touch. She shivered in delight as desire licked its forked tongue on her want.

She snatched the fan back from his offering hand, fumbling for air, words and composure. “Hamid, _please _translate the show properly.”

He shot a furtive glance to his right and sighed. “As you wish, my love,” he said with a nod.

Liana faced the screen again, placated but not entirely convinced that Hamid would fulfill his end of the bargain. He leaned towards her, Karagöz spoke, the audience roared and Hamid whispered in her ear, _“I wish she were an open-arse, and you a Popperin pear to ‘pop her in.’”_

She whipped her head towards him in shock, a movement so sudden that he didn’t have time to lean back. His lips brushed against her ear, cheek, and lips.

And so he kissed her; the dark chased away as stars burst behind their eyes.

And then, remembering decorum, he jerked back with such a force he bumped into his mother’s head.

“Are you alright, Hamid?” Čehrazad asked her mortified son as she gingerly rubbed her head. Liana broke into a helpless fit of giggles, flaming cheeks hidden behind her fan.

“Yes, Karagöz. I mean, _Anne_,” he stammered as he tried to catch his breath, blushing furiously to the tip of his ears. He laughed nervously as he gesticulated wildly to the screen. “I mean, Karagöz is so funny. Hilarious. I couldn’t…” he sank into his seat, his face burning. Liana swore smoke was coming out of his ears. He exhaled a shaky breath. “Contain myself. Sorry.”

“You’re looking rather red-faced.” Čehrazad placed a hand on his cheek despite his protests. “A bit hot. I think you should retire to your chambers early. Liana, I know you’re looking forward to this but would you be so kind to accompany him?”

“Of course, _Anne_,” she replied dutifully. She stole a sideways glance at her husband, catching the rakish smile curving on his lips. Her breath tightened._ Uh oh_. “Although perhaps we should call for a physician-”

“No,” Hamid said firmly, rising to his feet with renewed vigor. “Your bedside manner _never fails to satisfy_.”

He looped her arm in his, the dark and dangerous gleam in his eye was her little death sentence. With that, they bade goodnight. Hamid whisked Liana away at such a pace it drew scandalized onlookers.

The beautiful noble lady beside Čehrazad leaned closer, her brown eyes trained on the young couple. Her Arabic flawless but accented, for her mother tongue was Coptic. “What was that about, my dear friend?”

“Newlyweds,” Čehrazad replied with a roll of her twinkling eyes.

They chuckled, white teeth glinting in the moonlight. Čehrazad tapped her fan at the side of her nose before continuing.

_Between you and I._

“Honestly, Kamilah, I don’t know why they even bother leaving the bedroom.”

\--the end

All the historical inaccuracies/ trivia 

  1. The show should have taken place in the Imperial Hall instead of in the courtyard (I think).
  2. _Anne _\- “Mother” (two syllables, not like the name). I previously used “_Ana_” but apparently it’s a regional thing. ETA - yeah I know they went with _Ummi_ in canon, and that's more historically accurate (shocking)b I'm too lazy to change all of the chapters on mobile. I'll work on it eventually. But for now pls accept point 4.
  3. _Al-Qamar_ \- Arabic, Moon
  4. Ottoman Turkish - Three forms - _Fasih _(official, mostly written for government and literature), _Orta _(spoken among the elite) and _Kaba _(everybody else. The oldest language and closest to modern Turkish). Hamid would have spoken _Orta_, which has a lot of Arabic and Persian mixed with some Turkish. _Three Tales_ has been updated and has the links for further reading.
  5. _Putain _\- French. Fuck. Probably wrong to use it in this era because it originally meant prostitute. Don’t know when it evolved.
  6. To die - to orgasm. Elizabethan era slang. Maybe it’s still used in the Regency era?
  7. Little death - like the above.
  8. The _“popperin pear”_ line - Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet. Can’t find an english sample dialogue of naughty puppets, so let’s roll with this! 😬
  9. All the fan language. I might have jumbled up the eras.
  10. Liana’s last fan language, the fan on her lap, is based on a Gemma Arterton interview on the Graham Norton Show. My mind went completely down the gutter. It’s probably made up but it’s too perfect to let go. Find the gifs on this tumblr: https://biscuitsarenice.tumblr.com/post/137679707352/gemma-arterton-on-the-graham-norton-show-fan
  11. Yes, that’s a Kamilah cameo. I couldn’t resist with the title of this fic.

I am a South East Asian, shadow puppets is a thing here…sorry but I’m unimpressed with Turkish designs. Please let me show the ones from Asia so you can see why:

China

India

Thailand

Indonesia

Malaysia

  


Your eyes aren’t deceiving you, that is Batman and Joker and Darth Vader. The Fusion Wayang Kulit (find them on FB) is breathing new life to this ancient art! The traditional ones are similar to Indonesian.


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